Prototype
by MaidMarian17
Summary: There are many weird and creepy objects left in number 12 Grimmauld Place, but after the unthinkable happens, Hermione knows she only has to use one to save the people she loves. One problem though, how far is she willing to go to save them...and will she ever get back? AU starting at the beginning of OOTP. Time-travel. SBHG RLHG
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's stuff is still, and will always be, J.K. Rowling's stuff.**

Chapter **1: Grimmauld Place**

Three excruciatingly long weeks Hermione had been holed up in number twelve Grimmauld Place with no information except for what Fred and George's extendable ears gleamed by slipping through the door cracks. Occasionally she would see members of the Order quietly come and go as she went about her day, but for the most part, her time was occupied by the Weasleys and the cleaning of Sirius' house. With a bottle of potent Doxycide in her hand and a makeshift mask covering her mouth and nose, Hermione thought that _surely_ there must be something more useful that she could be doing with her time.

She idly sprayed the Doxycide at the rotting moth-eaten curtains for what must have been the hundredth time and a fully grown Doxy fluttered to the worn floor with a soft *PLINK*. It was a good thing that Harry was flying in tonight or she just might go stir-crazy. As much as she adored the Weasleys, there really was no substitute for her best friend. That, and frankly, she hated being the only one that Mr. Weasley went to in order to extract information about the various functions of muggle objects. If only there were some way to bypass the charms that were put on the doors during official Order meetings…all of the adults were very adamant that the "children" not become privy to any useful information whatsoever, and all that the genius extendable ears got them so far were worried words about guarding something, but Hermione would gamble this year's textbooks (well maybe not _all_ of her textbooks…a girl has to read after all) that the only thing the Order was guarding was Harry.

"Extendable Ears…What a bunch of useless fluff..." Hermione absentmindedly mumbled aloud as she halfheartedly sprayed another section of the drapes.

*CRACK*

Fred and George apparated not two feet from Hermione and it was all she could do to stifle a yell. After three weeks of these two popping up all over the place one would have thought that she would be used to their constant apparating and disapparating, but the truth was that the whole process was entirely too loud for Hermione's liking—that and she had the sneaking suspicion that the twins tried to startle as many people as they could while they had the opportunity.

"What was that sound we heard?" One of the twins asked in a perfectly practiced bemused tone. "Was it the sound of Doxys pit-pattering to the ground?"

"It must have been," The other said, shaking his head confusedly, "because it couldn't have been the sound of someone bashing our products. Especially the ears that we've been working _months_ to manufacture…not when the witch doing the bashing knows full well that if there is a complaint with one of our products she could fill out our rather long—"

"—yet practical-" the first interjected.

"questionnaire." At this moment he made a quick gesture that resulted in a scroll of parchment unfolding from his uplifted hand.

Hermione pulled down her mask and rolled her eyes. Ever since they received the funds to actually start manufacturing real products, Fred and George had been working nonstop to create as many innovative items as they could. Their goal, though, was to create as many of these items while simultaneously getting the figurative seal of approval from one of their idols, Sirius Black. Hoping to garner "valuable knowledge from the master" (their words, not hers) they developed a rather lengthy questionnaire that addressed everything from whether or not Sirius could see any practical application, to things as simple as whether or not Sirius liked the color. While Hermione secretly thought their dedication admirable, she couldn't help but be annoyed. Having been forced to fill out two of the questionnaires already, she now found out why, other than Mrs. Weasley, no one dared to complain or offer suggestions about the twin's merchandise.

"Fred," she said, facing the first brother.

"—I'm George—"

"—Whatever." As if that knowledge were inconsequential, Hermione fluttered her hand impatiently. "Surely you two realize that there _must_ be some way to bypass the spells put on the doors."

"Hermione, if you're thinking what we think you're thinking—" Fred said.

"—and we're pretty sure that you are—"said George.

"-then you'll have to trust us when we say—"

"-that we've already tried it." They finished in unison.

Exasperated, Hermione huffed and pointed around the room. "Yes I know but—"

"No ifs, ands, or buts about it Hermione, if you can think it, then we've tried it." Fred chirped matter-of-factly.

"You really have no idea how difficult it is being a professional sneak 'mione. No one does. I would say that we're not only underutilized, but underappreciated as well." George claimed dramatically as he inelegantly flopped on the couch in a large puff of dust.

Ignoring the sudden fit of coughs behind her, Hermione continued, facing Fred. "So what do you propose that we do then? I mean, not to say that the extendable ears aren't working, but they really haven't turned up much information. And if we can't enchant something with an adequate spell that would help us, then there must be something buried underneath all of this junk—" Hermione looked distastefully around the room at all of the mysterious objects and trinkets still shrouded in dust, "—that could be of use!"

Two mortified gasps echoed throughout the large room and Fred clasped his hand to his chest; both shooting her looks of utter disbelief.

"Did you hear that George?"

"I'm sorry to say that I did Fred." George replied pityingly. "Ah, to be so woefully young and misguided…" he flicked an imaginary tear from his cheek and Hermione scoffed.

"What, you two don't actually believe that in the whole of this house there isn't one piece of rubbish?" She spouted condescendingly.

"Haven't you heard the saying 'one man's trash is another man's treasure' Hermione?" Inquired Fred. "For instance," he turned to walk over to a large curio filled to the brim with filthy miscellaneous items, "our many lessons with the 'Teacher of Trickery'—"

"The 'Professor of Puns'—"

"The 'Magister of Mischief'—"

"Sirius Black you mean." Deadpanned Hermione, interrupting whatever clever title one of the twins would've surely spouted out next.

Unperturbed, Fred continued, "The _one and only_ Sirius Black, yes. As I was saying, during some of our many lessons in which we asked about everything worth knowing in this house, he pointed out some items that though often viewed as junk by small-minded persons, are startlingly useful if one had the need or inclination to use them."

Hermione bristled at the small-minded jab, but nevertheless let herself be guided over to where Fred was standing.

"Now this shady looking bauble here was collected by Sirius' dear old mum after winning it in a—dare I say—rigged game of cards with some thieves from Albania."

"He always did say his mum was ruthless…" George mumbled to himself, smiling.

Fred continued, "It can print multiple coins at once…Galleons, Sickles, Knuts, but leaves a curse on the one that tries to use the item for personal gain. They say that his mother kept out of public for a month before the curse finally wore off." He shook his head but was unrelenting in offering up what Hermione considered worthless facts.

And then this," he pointed to what looked like a dried strip of leather, "this is a piece of skin from the now extinct Tibetan Bluewing, a dragon that would make Harry's Horntail look like an overgrown iguana." Seeing Hermione's look of disbelief Fred just nodded and continued to explain. "Just a pinch of that there dried skin added to someone's pumpkin juice, and the poor bloke would never take another breath again."

"Were the Blacks ever in possession of anything that doesn't cause immediate physical harm when touched?" Hermione asked, slightly sickened that just yesterday she was supposed to have cleaned the contents of the curio.

"Now Hermione," George said. "We mustn't judge the poor man on his less than optimal upbringing. There's not a whole lot of sunshine and rainbow Slytherin artifacts. However, I see your point. Show her a couple of the others Fred, and maybe less of the dreary ones this time."

Fred harrumphed but nodded grudgingly. Without George's intervention, Hermione was sure that he could've been quite content to thoroughly explain each and every one of the trinkets encased within the curio. How the twins scraped by with as many O.W.L.s as they did, Hermione would never know. If only they had applied their memorization skills to their studies….

Her train of thought was interrupted as she spied an item within the cabinet that looked extremely similar to her old time-turner. Granted, it wasn't on a chain, nor was the metal embellished with the small inscription that Hermione had become all too familiar with in her third year. In comparison, what she was staring at in the curio seemed to her rather…plain.

"What about that one?" She said, pointing at the item in question. "What does that do?"

"Oh! Now we're talking!" Fred exclaimed with a knowing grin. "That little beauty is one of the original seven prototypes to the time-turner."

"Why would anyone need seven prototypes?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well that's just it, innit? To develop the product, the prototypes had to be tested and refined. The blokes that put these together originally created seven of these that were exactly alike, and they used each one to help correct certain flaws in the system. Luckily they sorted out all of the flaws after the sixth original turner was used, rendering the seventh—this one—completely useless, and much too dangerous to ever use. So what you see here before you is the last of the originals, without any modifications whatsoever."

"So what exactly are the differences between this one and the modern ones then?"

"Well for instance," George piped up helpfully, "This one would be rendered irreparable after use. A big ugly crack would split the hourglass in two, leaving you however many years you went into the past—"

"Years?!" Hermione interjected suddenly. "But in the library, every book I've read about time-turners has said that the most someone could flip the hourglass was six times, putting the person six hours into the past, and even then, it was strongly recommended that at most only turn the glass five times, so as to not cause any lasting damage to time itself, let alone whatever damage going back that far would do to the wearer!" Hermione said all of this very quickly, as if she had previously memorized the information. "I can only imagine what damage could be done if someone went _years_ into the past!" Her eyes suddenly widened so that Fred and George could see more white than usual. Still in utter shock, she turned her head from the curio to get a better look at the twins' faces. "Just how far back would one turn take someone? One year? Two?" She demanded.

"Ah. Now here's where it gets weird," said George, oblivious to Hermione's obvious distress. "Whoever set the prototype's dial must have been a real nitwit—"

"A nutter for sure." Concurred Fred.

"—because one turn would theoretically take the user back nine and a half years…"

The rest of what George said was lost on Hermione as she echoed in a whisper "nine and a half years." Still reeling, Hermione dazedly asked, "But where would Sirius even get something like this?"

Now Fred looked stumped. It would seem, Hermione thought with a smirk, that they didn't pay as much attention as she had thought.

"Um…who was it again George? It couldn't have been his crazy uncle…he died ages ago…" Fred muttered more to himself than to the other two.

George had his face scrunched up in what looked like painful concentration before he snapped his fingers, surprising Hermione and his brother. "You know, I think that might have been the one that came from the old bat whatshername—"

"—Close, but still a little off the mark." Interrupted a voice from the doorway with a barely concealed smile. Sirius Black walked across the musty room to get a better look at what lay within the Curio. That particular piece was given as a present to my brother Regulus from the very overzealous and avid collector, Hepzibah Smith, before her death." He glanced at Hermione before continuing. "She was before my time, so I'm afraid that I personally couldn't attest to her being an 'old bat,' but she did amass a very large collection of magical antiquities, most of which were claimed to have belonged to the four founders of Hogwarts. So while still being a rare gift, in retrospect, this prototype was incredibly easy for her to give away…"

As he was finishing his last thought, Hermione could hear the faint thudding of someone running down the steps towards the room they were all in. Ginny hurriedly popped her head past the door frame, her face flushed as she said, "Oy, you lot! Haven't you heard? Harry's just arrived!"

A grin blossomed on Sirius' face as he rushed out of the room, not only to see his godson, but to probably make sure that the arriving party didn't awaken the portrait of his dearly departed mother, Hermione suspected. Almost simultaneously to Sirius' rushed departure, two very loud *CRACKs* were heard, leaving Hermione alone in the room.

Hermione mulled over the information she just received. Regardless of how fascinating Sirius Black's heirlooms may or may not be, she was in the exact same position as she had been before. They still had no way whatsoever of getting any _real_ Order information…and from what she had seen, there was nothing in this creaking, ancient house that would help her further that goal...

Suddenly it clicked and Hermione grinned. There was nothing from what she had _seen_!

She rushed down the steps, not caring if she woke up all the portraits—although by the sound of things downstairs, the fliers managed to wake up Mrs. Black after all—and she didn't stop until she nearly crashed into Harry.

"Oof! 'Mione…" Harry breathed, shocked.

"Oh Harry it's so good to see you! We're all so glad that you're here safe!" She gestured for him to go on over to where Sirius and Ron were standing. "Now while you boys catch up, go on and hand me your trunk, I'll help you unpack."

 **A/N: please keep in mind, that while reviews are not necessary, they are in fact, appreciated ;) Let me know what you think so far!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A very big thank you to all of those that have favorited and followed my story! You have no idea how much that means to me. To those who reviewed, you all have a very special place in my heart! Now for the next chapter :)**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, All but the plot line belongs to J.K.**

* * *

Chapter 2: The Meeting

Alone in Harry's room Hermione sat with an energetic fervor as she maniacally dug through his trunk. Throwing out unimportant pieces and completely bypassing the underwear, her heart leaped when she saw the familiar pristine cloak neatly folded and tucked away into the corner. Hoping that this would work, she snatched it up and unevenly stuffed the clothes she had thrown around the room back into the trunk. If all went as planned, she could come back up here, put the cloak back where she found it, and rearrange his clothes and no one would be the wiser—but as of right now, she was running out of time. The next Order of the Phoenix meeting started in less than ten minutes, and she had to figure out a way to get downstairs without being seen.

Peeking out of the doorway, Hermione was overwhelmingly thankful that Harry's room was just on the first floor up. Seeing no one, she crouched down so that the invisibility cloak would cover her trainers and stepped lightly as she crossed the floor to the staircase. Without glancing upwards, Hermione knew that the twins, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were at the top of the stairs, and from the hushed whispers, she had the hunch that they were informing Harry about the many uses and properties of the extendable ears. Good. If they were busy trying to listen in, no one would be wondering where she was and she could in all likelihood sneak back when she was done.

Wishing that she could perform magic outside of Hogwarts, Hermione silently cursed each time the old dilapidated staircase creaked. Finally she made it to the ground floor. She could see people milling about the kitchen, hoping to grab some of Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart before the meeting started. Hermione glanced at the imposing clock that hung in the main hall, she had just under five minutes to spare, and having been satisfied that they had sent all of the children upstairs, no one was guarding the meeting room. She couldn't have had a better chance if she had asked for one. Still moving quietly, so that her footfalls wouldn't be heard, she sidled through the doorway and moved so that she was standing with her back to the furthermost wall.

Just in time too. No sooner had her breathing returned to normal than members began to stride into the room and take their places at the table. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Bill Weasley, and a few older gentlemen ambled in with Mad-eye Moody bringing up the rear. Once he entered, the door swung shut behind him and he waved his wand up and down the door, muttering a wide variety of charms that Hermione had never heard, before taking his place at the far end of the table. So far none of them had suspected her presence and Hermione hoped to keep it that way.

The meeting began. Pleasantries aside, Mad-eye started the proceedings with a detailed report on the flight from the Dursley's to Grimmauld Place. Unsurprisingly the report was heavily fraught with the many ways that not only muggles, but Death Eaters as well could've spotted them.

As he finished, Hermione could not help but grudgingly admire Barty Crouch Jr.'s performance the school year previous. They may have been taught questionable dueling techniques from a death eater, but he really had nailed Moody's personality and suspicious attitude.

"I highly doubt that Death Eaters would be hanging around Little Whinging Alastor," dismissed Mrs. Weasley.

Before Moody could respond, Sirius interrupted. "As unlikely as that event may be Molly, we can't afford to throw aside any possible theory as to where Voldemort might have stationed his followers." A general shudder went around the table at the mention of You-know-who's name. Sirius continued. "Now we all know the purpose of this meeting is to discuss the precautions we need to take in regard to Harry and the rest of the children. Personally, I vote that we inform them as much as we can so that they're prepared for every eventuality."

At this suggestion, all of the members broke out into a low murmuring, lowly talking to those that sat the closest to them. All—that is – except for Mrs. Weasley, who instead was turning a bright red.

"They're just kids Sirius!" She shouted at him across the table.

"I know perfectly well how old they are Molly," Sirius said in a forced calm. "I was just under the impression that knowing and being prepared was a much better option than having the children go about their school year as if nothing has happened. Harry, at least, has a right to know."

"Harry is fifteen Sirius," Molly responded vehemently. "He is not James! You cannot just tell him every little bit of information that the Order receives because you think it's in his better interest!"

"I'm aware that my best friend is dead Molly, thank you!" Sirius barked. "And as for Harry, as his Godfather—"

"Oh! And what a fine job you've done as that, locked up in prison!" Molly retorted

Hermione held her breath as both Sirius and Molly jumped out of their seats, tension clearly in the air. At this point, every member was attempting to talk above one another and the room was thrown into a cacophony of jumbled voices. Mr. Weasley was endeavoring to pull Molly back into her seat, but she kept shoving him off as she glared at Sirius.

"ENOUGH!"

The room fell into a shocked silence. Remus Lupin stood up and stared everyone at the table down. Both Sirius and Molly slowly settled into their seats as he began to speak.

"Molly, Harry is Sirius' godson, and as such, he has the right to tell Harry whatever he so wishes." Just before Molly could get worked up again, Lupin continued. "And Sirius, I agree that Harry does have a right to know more about what Voldemort is planning, but to an extent."

Sirius slumped in his chair and abashed, looked up at his friend. "Always the peacemaker eh Remus?"

A ghost of a smirk lingered on Lupin's face before he continued addressing the group. "Either way, none of this matters if we don't decide how to act upon the most recent bit of news."

Hermione's ears perked. Could this be what she had been hoping to listen in on? Hopefully it would be actual news that she could share with the others.

"We all know that Voldemort is back, and we can assume that he is in the process of regrouping with his followers the Death Eaters. What we also know, is that he has begun to contact various creatures such as the Giants so that he can have their allegiance early on in the upcoming war."

He took a breath.

"Now, one of Dumbledore's sources in the Ministry has covertly made it known that the Ministry's hold on Azkaban is weakening considerably. Just yesterday, a large group of Dementors abandoned their posts, attacking several of the wizarding guards that were stationed there and departed the island, heading toward England."

Hermione had to clasp a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp as she contemplated the consequences of the Dementors roaming free around London. Luckily her sudden movement didn't attract any unwanted attention as all of the adults felt similarly.

"Now, Dumbledore and his staff will be setting up various charms and wards around the castle so that the students will be well protected when their schooling starts up in September. It is up to us to be on high alert when the children go to Diagon Alley as well as be available to apparate to Hogsmeade if anything goes awry during the year."

Mad-eye Moody cleared his throat. "Well it's agreed then. Constant vigilance will be required from all of us if we expect to keep Potter and his friends safe." He said gruffly as he scanned the table, daring anyone to disagree.

Sirius was about to speak when the lights flickered. An apprehensive hush fell over the room. The room grew unbearably chilly as the drinks some of the members had brought into the room cracked and splintered with ice. Hermione could feel her adrenaline spiking; she knew what this meant. The chill penetrated her from the inside out.

"A—already?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, horrified.

"They wouldn't dare…." Shacklebolt breathed, his words clouding in its frigid breath fog.

"On the contrary, Kingsley." Sirius' voice was strained and he was looking paler by the second. "Of all the beings who would dare, it would be Dementors."

Arthur grabbed Mrs. Weasley so that he was looking her straight in the face and said tersely, "Get the kids. Meet us back at the safe location."

Hermione was as good as petrified. She could not move and she could not speak, her wide eyes fixated on the ancient brick wall that separated them from the outside. The last thing she heard was Mr. Weasley yelling, "NOW MOLLY! GO!" before the wall exploded in a terrifyingly loud blast.

Brick flew about wildly and before Hermione could think to run or crouch down, a particularly large piece of rubble glanced off the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. Feeling warm rivulets of blood flowing down her cheeks, Hermione helplessly watched as the rogue band of Dementors relentlessly glided into the room. Her tears mingling with her blood, blessedly, she succumbed to the dark.

* * *

Soft light penetrated Hermione's eyelids. She had a splitting headache. Blearily, she began to open her eyes. Where was she? Too slowly for her liking, her eyes focused. Large clean windows, rows of infirmary quality beds, and a distinct lack of any medical equipment surrounded her. Was she in the hospital wing? Sitting up, she could see Madame Pomfrey attending to one of the other occupied beds.

Hearing the sheets rustle, Madam Pomfrey turned and started towards her.

"How are you feeling Miss Granger?" Pomfrey asked, genuinely concerned.

"Headache." Hermione ground out, wincing as the nurse tapped the abrasion on her forehead with her wand.

"There. That should do the trick."

Instantly Hermione felt her headache ebb away into nonexistence. Propping herself further up in the bed, Hermione got a better look around. The bed that she saw Madam Pomfrey at first was the only other one besides her own that was occupied.

"Better?"

Hermione nodded thankfully. Where was everybody? Why had nobody come? And who was in the other bed?"

The large infirmary doors creaked open and a flustered Professor McGonagall bustled in, her green robes trailing behind her. She walked over to Madam Pomfrey and spoke in a series of forced whispers and frantic gestures towards Hermione's bed. Finally, the nurse threw up her hands in relent, and McGonagall hurried over to Hermione's bedside. Up close, Hermione could see that the Transfiguration teacher's hair was haphazardly put together, and that her eyes were red from crying.

"Miss Granger, I must ask that you accompany me to the Headmaster's office immediately."

Worried, Hermione threw off the covers and followed McGonagall to the third floor corridor. They arrived at the gargoyle that would provide a spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office.

"Professor…" Hermione hesitantly began, "who was the other person in the hospital wing?"

McGonagall ignored her, but her voice wavered slightly when she spoke the password.

"P—pumpkin pasties."

They both stepped onto the staircase. When they arrived at the door, it swung open before Hermione could knock. Not knowing what to expect, Hermione slowly walked into the spacious room. Mad-eye Moody was standing at the foot of the desk, and Dumbledore sat deep within his ornate chair, eyes closed with his fingers steepled. Fawkes saw them arrive and gave a small cry of welcome. Dumbledore's eyes opened and he gave a warm smile when he saw Hermione.

"Minerva. Miss Granger. Alastor was just about to let me know how we stand." He said wearily. Hermione had never seen him look so old before. It was if he had aged one hundred years since last spring.

"Headmaster, if I may…I would like to ask a few questions."

Dumbledore solemnly nodded his head. "Yes, I do believe you are entitled to a few answers Miss Granger. Let us start from the beginning. What do you remember?"

She retold how she snuck into the meeting, what she had heard, and how when the Dementors blasted into the room she had been hit with a glancing piece of brick, knocking her unconscious.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "You may be surprised to hear Miss Granger that you in fact snuck into that meeting a week ago."

Hermione gasped. A week ago?! How much had happened since then?

"You would also be surprised to hear that what you and many of the Order perceived as a mere Dementor attack, was in fact, a decoy. Dementors themselves cannot pass through such physical barriers as walls. Let alone the heavily spelled ones at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. No. That work was of some accomplished albeit sloppy wizards. While the Dementors flew in and distracted the members, three known Death Eaters waltzed in through the front door and up the stairs. Either Voldemort is more impatient that I had anticipated, or some of his followers are not satisfied with the pace his plans have been proceeding." Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, his eyes collecting moisture as he continued. "Either way," he said, subdued, "the three Death Eaters accomplished their mission and have consequently fled. We do not hope to find them, and have reason to believe that after Voldemort hears of their actions, there won't be anyone left to find. However, the bright lights that they extinguished are irreplaceable…"

His eyes glistened with tears, and in that moment he no longer looked like the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen; he looked like a tired, wizened, old man who had seen too many hardships in his life. His shoulders slumped forward, and he looked toward Professor McGonagall.

"How are they Minerva?"

"Inconsolable Albus."

Hermione's heart sank. The Death Eaters had gone upstairs….Frantically she looked at the Headmaster. "Where's Harry?"

The next hour passed in what seemed like minutes. She heard everything, but felt overwhelmingly numb. Dumbledore told how they had fought, bravely trying to save one another. How had Hermione not had the cloak, they would've gotten her too. Mrs. Weasley had saved as many as she could, and had apparated away. The others that had stayed to fight the Dementors followed after. The only reason Hermione wasn't left behind was because of Moody's enchanted eye. It had seen through the invisibility cloak and once the Dementors were finished, he had scooped her up and had trailed the others to the Shrieking Shack. Those that had made it, hobbled their way to the infirmary and into the sanctuary that Hogwarts provided. But those that hadn't….the short list seemed too long; eternally unending.

Fred, George, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Lupin, three older members of the Order that Hermione had seen but couldn't recall, and Harry. Harry Potter, the wizard who had defended and protected Ginny Weasley with his dying breath; Harry Potter her best friend; Harry Potter the Chosen One….was dead.

"No no no no no no NO!" Yelled Hermione, tears streaming down her cheeks. This wasn't supposed to happen! "They can't be dead! Harry CAN'T be dead!" she screamed, her heart breaking.

McGonagall, at Hermione's anguish, was now silently sobbing, but Dumbledore looked at Hermione with a grave expression on his face.

"I agree, Miss Granger. You see, we have no hope of winning this war without Harry Potter. Our forces and morale are utterly shattered, and with this new development, I fear that Voldemort will get what he's always desired: Power. For he does not distinguish between true power and the power of fear."

"There must be _something_ that we can do." Hermione implored, tears still streaming unchecked down her face.

"There is." Mad-eye Moody interrupted, his voice less gruff than usual.

Dumbledore sighed and McGonagall looked between the two of them as though she could read their thoughts.

"Albus...You're not really suggesting that Miss Granger—"

"I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm suggesting, Minerva." Dumbledore continued in earnest.

Hermione felt completely lost. "What exactly, Headmaster, are you suggesting?" She asked, confused and worn out.

Moody cleared his throat. "Granger, just how willing are you to get Potter and the others back?" He inquired briskly.

Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat and glared at the auror. How dare he suggest that she wouldn't do all that she could if it meant getting her friends back. "I would do anything." Hermione whispered brokenly. "But there's no way…no logical way to get them back."

"That's true Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "We cannot bring them back in the present…but I'm hoping that we can bring them back through the past."

Hermione scrunched up her features in thought. "But…Headmaster, there isn't a device available that could perform what you're suggesting...and time-turners only work up to six hours in the past"

"Not _all_ of them." Said Moody confidently as he held up a rather small plain looking item.

Hermione balked. The Prototype. Of course.

"A rather curious item—"Dumbledore began to explain. "It is one of the very first—"

"I know what it is." Hermione whispered somberly, remembering the in-depth discussion Fred and George had treated her to concerning Sirius Black's many trinkets. Sadly, she realized that she would never talk like that to the twins again.

"In that case, I ask you Miss Granger, how far back would you be willing to go to help us save the lives of your friends and countless others?"

Could she do it? Hermione stared at the old hourglass. It wouldn't be like the last time where she could just catch up with herself. If she went, the prototype would break and she'd be stuck years behind living a completely different life, making completely different friends...but hopefully she would be able to alter just enough to change this course of events. But what if she stayed? She could still help the resistance as much as possible, but would they ever have another chance like this again? Besides that, it wasn't much of a world without Harry Potter.

"What would happen if I said no?"

"If you said no, you would not be blamed for your decision in any way. Leaving one's world behind for another life should not be a decision any person has to make. You would finish your schooling and if you wished it, would be of great help in the upcoming war." Dumbledore replied, keeping his face neutrally calm.

"And…what if I said yes?"

"If you said yes you would be trained for a period of two weeks' time on the styles of life a couple years ago and you would be heavily studying advanced spells with Alastor. We would brief you on the three Death Eaters involved in the deaths at Grimmauld Place, so that when the time came, you would hopefully be able to spur them down a different path, and, in time, you would live to see your friends live the lives they were meant to. Either way, Miss Granger, the choice is yours."

Hermione took a deep breath. Could she really leave behind everything on the hope that she could be the crucial turning point in the war to come? Would she go back Merlin knows how many years to save Harry? Exasperated, her own thoughts reprimanded her. Of course she would.

"I'll do it." Hermione said determinedly. "When do I start?"

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 **A/N: After uploading Chapter 1 last week, I realized that the Harry Potter FF page fills up with new/updated stories quickly, so if you are one of the lucky people that see and read this story before it's pushed back to page 20, I would appreciate a review! I am planning on updating regularly, so any note of encouragement or acknowledgement would be splendid :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this (unfortunately). It all belongs to the writing queen J.K.R and there is one line in here that is credited to J.R.R. Tolkein ;) See if you can find it!**

 **A/N: Sorry this update took so long! I was working graveyards for a fortnight, and then I just got back from a vacation down in St. George, Utah, but all of your reviews have been so lovely and it always gives me nice stomach butterflies when I see them! All of you reviewers (members, as well as non-members) are phenomenal! Now, without further ado, Chapter 3 :)**

* * *

No one could know. How could she tell them when they had already lost so much? Mrs. Weasley was utterly inconsolable, prone to sudden bursts of tears any time someone mentioned the attack at Grimmauld Place, but she was not the only one sorely affected. The castle felt somber; the air heavy with the thoughts of the upcoming funeral. None of it was publicized yet, of course, but it would only be a matter of time before the entire wizarding world received news of the death of their Chosen One. Hermione could only be grateful that she hadn't been in the hospital room when Sirius had recovered.

After meticulously being stitched up by the skillful hand of Madam Pomfrey, Sirius had finally regained consciousness shortly after Hermione had met with Dumbledore. No one but the headmaster dared to break the tragic news to the man that had lost so much…but Hermione could easily imagine everyone within the school grounds must have heard the anguished yells that came from the confines of the infirmary. She had been on the south end of the corridor when an achingly familiar large black dog crashed through the Hospital Wing doors and bounded down the hallway, brushing past her without a second glance. It had been two days since then, and although no one had seen the heir of the House of Black, Hermione had sworn that she could hear the dog howling late into the night.

One by one, the Order members left the castle to return to the comfort of their own homes for the summer. Ron had asked her if she had wanted to come to the Burrow with them to spend out the last three weeks of the summer vacation, but with so many of her friends gone, Hermione held out hope that after she completed her mission, she would have changed enough to counteract this outcome. Lying to her friend, she said that Dumbledore had already offered her a temporary place in the castle in which she could spend out the rest of the summer. Guilt washed over her as she deceived Ron, but she quickly justified the feeling. She had already made her decision to go back, and the less her remaining friends knew about it, the easier it would be. Regardless of how weighted down her heart felt, she kept repeating the words that had become her mantra over the past week.

 _'_ _There's still hope, there's still hope, I hope there's still hope…'_

* * *

"FASTER GRANGER! WHAT JINX CAN BE PAIRED WITH 'AQUA ERUCTO' FOR THE BEST OFFENCE?!"

She immediately ducked down, just barely missing the stinging hex that was aimed at her. For the past week, not only had she been bombarded by an intense study schedule, but Moody had taken to spontaneously quizzing her while having her simultaneously dodging/nonverbally counteracting every spell, hex, and jinx he sent her way. By now, she was covered in bruises and small gashes that he wouldn't allow her to heal, saying that there would be times when she would have to persevere despite injuries.

"Ebubli—" She tried to answer, but a small green flame snapped by her left cheek causing her to flinch instead. She gritted her teeth in frustration and let out a low growl.

"WHAT'S THAT GRANGER? SPEAK UP!" Moody fired off another round of harmful jinxes and nearly blasted the arm off of the statue that Hermione was currently hiding behind. Bits and pieces of stone whizzed by her ear, slicing the ends of the tender skin. She flinched, but clenched her wand in annoyance. Enough was enough.

"Fumos," she whispered, so as not to be heard by the ex-auror. A blast of ugly black smoke cascaded from the tip of her wand and within seconds, it quickly engulfed the courtyard, providing her with the perfect cover. Before she let off any offensive spells, she hurried and pointed her wand down at her shoes, and performed a silent muffliato. Then she ran. Her hard shoes pounded against the pavement, yet they were soundless. She haphazardly flung a couple of disarming spells through the smog before she heard Moody speak.

"YOU'LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT GRANGER!"

Hermione jumped. His voice was much closer than she had realized. Perfect. She moved so that she was standing right behind him. Vaguely she could see him make a sharp slashing movement with his wand, and all of a sudden, a short wind carried off the thick smoke until it had dispersed into nothingness. Hermione concentrated. She could do this.

Squinting her eyes closed and focusing her mind, she attempted a nonverbal Expelliarmus. With a snap, Moody's wand was flying through the air and into Hermione's outstretched hand. Moody whirled around to see her holding both wands and standing victorious.

"Ebublio."

"Well well well Granger, much better than last week," He said in gruff approval. "You seem to be getting the hang of nonverbals now...but you need to be quicker to attack your opponent. You can't just stand there waving their wand like a victory flag. Remember, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He paused. "However…that was impressive Granger, you're dismissed for the day."

She watched Moody amble through the doorway, mostly to make sure that he was actually leaving and not testing her. Once he made it around the bend of the corridor, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, happy that she could finally study. These unprompted training sessions took their toll. From the past ten minutes alone, Hermione could feel four new superficial gashes along her upper arms, but she could grudgingly admit to herself that Moody was right. She _was_ getting better. Her first day had been a nightmare.

* * *

 _Anxiously she walked into the courtyard, wand gripped at her side. She didn't know what to expect, but as she rounded the bend, she most certainly hadn't expected Mad-eye Moody to be standing next to a small table topped with books._

 _He was bent over the table, shuffling through the texts. His normal eye picked one out of the pile and he openly scoffed before lightly tossing it to the other end of the table._

 _"_ _Rubbish…theory…not fit for teaching if you ask me…" Hermione could hear him mumbling and it seemed that Moody had sensed her arrival for his magical eye locked gazes with her while he was still hunched over. Slowly he stood up, his mouth in a tight line._

 _"_ _Come take a closer look Granger. Tell me if you know what these are."_

 _Ten covers, some faded, some new, peeked at her from the top of the table. The only ones that were unfamiliar to Hermione were, 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 5' by Miranda Goshawk and the one that Moody had carelessly tossed onto the far corner, 'Defensive Magical Theory' by Wilbert Slinkhard._

 _Hermione raised an eyebrow._

 _"_ _They're our fifth year books sir." She said, confused._

 _"_ _Correct. Do you know_ _ **why**_ _I have your next year's school books Miss Granger?" He paused for a second and when he received no reply, continued. "No? Well, Dumbledore has requested that during our two weeks training period you also study for your O.W.L exams which you will be taking at the end of our time together."_

 _Hermione's eyes grew wide._

 _"_ _SO SOON?!" Hermione screeched. "B-but I haven't learned much of anything! I don't know how to do any conjuring charms, or any advanced transfiguration! Potions will be easy enough I suppose….and granted I have read ahead in all of the required readings, so I only really need to study for Charms and Defen—"_

 _Moody scoffed at the mention of Hermione reading Slinkhard's book. "Trust me Granger, nothing in that waste of parchment will be necessary to read in order to pass the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. We'll be going over magical defense the….practical way. No reading required." He finished cryptically._

 _"_ _Yes, that's all well and good, but it really doesn't change the fact that I haven't been studying at all over the summer for the O. ! What do we even learn? What should I know? Nonverbals are almost essential and I haven't mastered even one!" Hermione was frantic. Horrified, she was mentally berating herself for not setting a time for her to study sooner. Of course Dumbledore would throw this at her…._

 _Before she could truly lose herself to her inner conversation, Moody interrupted._

 _"_ _I suggest you get to studying then Miss Granger. You have two weeks in which to do so, so I expect nothing but your best effort. However I assure you that I will be a better professor than that filthy Death Eater could ever pretend to be. Anything that you don't learn through theoretical application," He almost sneered at the textbooks, "will most certainly be taught via practical application. And as for our training…expect the unexpected. Constant vigilance! I'll be sending you from a war zone_ _ **to**_ _a war zone, and Merlin help me I'll have you prepared._

 _With that final thought, Moody removed himself from the courtyard, leaving Hermione alone with the rotting table laden with books. If that wasn't one of the most ominous things Hermione had heard, she didn't know what was._

* * *

Hermione chuckled under her breath at the poignant memory. Since then, she had landed in the Hospital Wing four times. Once, twice in the same day. She had never broken a bone before in her life, and she still hadn't…technically. One of her shoulder blades may have disappeared due to a particularly nasty nonverbal hex that had backfired, and while it reminded her of when Professor Lockhart attempted to heal Harry's wrist their second year, Hermione realized the hard way that seeing her best friend go through complete bone loss was extremely different from experiencing it herself. Also, the process of completely re-growing bones was painful and vaguely disgusting. Even now she winced when recalling the taste of Skele-Gro in her mouth. 'Not pumpkin juice' indeed.

After that incident, Moody had switched some of his more…inventive hexes and replaced them with ones similar to the Stinging hex. So although still painful, at least she wouldn't be stuck in the hospital wing again, leaving her with only her new fifth year books for company. She had easily breezed through all ten, and that was including that rubbish D.A.D.A. 'theory' book. Luckily for her, most of what would be covered in her upcoming examinations she had already thoroughly read over in the majority of her texts, so practicing the new incantations in her new Charms book had been top priority.

It was a blessing as well as a curse when Mad-eye had heard that she had finished her books though. Afterwards, he diligently had spent every waking moment for the past two days testing her on the most difficult spells in the books, leaving her mentally exhausted and physically weak come bedtime. So now, a week into her training, Hermione had completely mastered most nonverbal spells, as well as all of the necessary spells that Moody assured her she would be tested on at the end of next week. Battered and bruised, yet satisfied with her progress, Hermione stumbled up the steps to the empty girl's dormitory and looked out of her tower window. Moonlight embraced the grounds, bathing its vast expanse in a pale shadow. It should've seemed serene after a full day's work, but instead it left Hermione with the feeling that something was off. Something about the stillness...ah! The whomping willow.

Far off and to her right, the usually ferocious tree was unnervingly tranquil. Hermione squinted her eyes. Was that an animal? Hermione gasped. What looked to be a black and shaggy Scottish deerhound climbed out from the passage that lay underneath the willow's twisted and gnarled roots.

"Sirius." Hermione breathed. She had assumed that he would have gone away with the others…but given the circumstances she was not surprised that he was still lingering on the grounds. Her heart stung. Sirius was a man without any family, his godson had just died, and the last of his faithful friends had passed…but he was home.

' _And judging from how skinny that dog looks, I'll wager that he hasn't been eating.'_ Hermione thought to herself. ' _Don't worry Sirius. I'll get them back.'_

A mournful howl echoed on the wind, and Hermione sighed. Turning towards her bed, she resolved to not only get a good night sleep, but to begin leaving food in the Shrieking Shack starting tomorrow as well.

Morning dawned. Hermione glanced at the clock in her dorm.

"6:29! Merlin, I'm going to be late!" Lessons with Moody began at seven o'clock sharp, and if she wanted to make a trip to the kitchens…time was not on her side.

She haphazardly threw on a pair of faded jeans and her favorite jumper before flying down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor common room, tossing back a hurried "Sorry!" to the portrait of the Fat Lady as it slammed against the stone wall. Luckily all of the staircases had changed in her favor, but just as she was about to round the corner to the kitchens, she skidded to a stop. A small cluster of ancient wizards and witches were milling about the entrance to the Great Hall. She stood, dumbfounded and aching for breath when they all turned to look at her knowingly.

"Ah, Granger, right on time." Moody's voice boomed behind her, rebounding off of the stone walls.

Trying to catch her breath as well as adequately reply, all Hermione managed to get out was a breathy "…W-what?"

"I thought you might say that," Moody said matter-of-factly. "I may have forgotten to mention that I talked to Dumbledore and had your exams moved up to this morning."

Hermione stopped gulping in air…in fact it seemed as though she stopped breathing altogether. Her face went utterly blank, and for a whole minute all she could do was blink dumbly.

"I'm sorry Professor…" she squeaked meekly. "I thought I heard you say that my O.W.L.s were today."

"You heard right Granger," He said brusquely. "but no cause for alarm. You won't be spending all day writing superfluous essays on how the textbooks dictate you act in case of emergency." He rolled his good eye. "Since your situation is rather…unique, the examiners have allowed you to be graded for the majority on the practical half of the exams only. The only written exam you'll have is for the History of Magic O.W.L." Seeing that her panicked expression was frozen on her face, Moody softened his voice in a very rare display of encouragement. "You're prepared for this, Granger."

Hermione's face relaxed and she took a deep breath. Even if she hated this particular surprise, she would've had to take the exams sooner or later. No time like the present.

Noticing the sudden determination written on Hermione's face, Moody straightened up and gave her a light nudge towards the Great Hall. "Constant vigilance Granger."

Twelve hours later, Hermione fell upon her bed exhausted. She had had to demonstrate Charms for levitation, color change, and growth; vanish a tapestry; wrestle with a particularly nasty Fanged Geranium; demonstrate counter-jinxes, defensive spells, and how to conquer a boggart; translate a scroll that Merlin had written to Morgan le Fay; successfully brew the first stages of the beautification potion; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without scorching her hair off, demonstrate what herbs she would feed a sick Unicorn; Completely fill in a star chart based off a moving photograph of last night's sky; solve five different Arithmancy problems; and write a scroll of parchment's worth on an in depth examination of the Goblin riots of the eighteenth century.

Two weeks' worth of tests packed into one very strenuous day. Hermione flipped over, pressing her face into the feather pillow. Her stomach rumbled, and she sighed, irritated. She hadn't eaten all day. Maybe if she went down to the kitchens…no she was too tired. A spare unnamed memory tugged at her mind. Was she forgetting something? Something to do with the kitchens..? Her eyes grew tired and began to drift down. Unable to stop herself from succumbing to sleep, Hermione resolved to look into whatever she was forgetting tomorrow.

Outside, within the Shrieking Shack at Hogsmeade, a large scruffy dog whimpered before curling up and surrendering to the night and its bitter loneliness.

**A Week Later**

Hermione stood in the Headmaster's office, nervous and suddenly feeling overwhelmingly inadequate.

"What if I can't change anything?"

"We must not give up hope Miss Granger." A wizened and gentle voice permeated through the room in reply. Dumbledore sat in his large chair behind his desk, with Fawkes perched just above him, both giving Hermione comforting glances.

McGonagall and Moody stood at the back of the room, with their backs towards the many peculiar cabinets and previous headmaster portraits. Moody looked proud, but McGonagall looked worried.

"Now," Dumbledore began soothingly, "do you have all of your things?"

Hermione patted the pack that was slung around her right shoulder. "Yes headmaster," She said confidently, "at least, I believe that I have everything."

"Very well." Moody's no-nonsense voice cut through the room's atmosphere as he ambled up the short stairs to the headmaster's dais. He pulled a long thin chain out of his front coat pocket and held it in front of Hermione. The prototype. Just as she was about to take it, she paused.

"Are you sure that I can never come back Headmaster?" Thinking and preparing for something was very different than actually going through with it…and Hermione was feeling very anxious.

Dumbledore's eyes softened. "It is true that when you go back, that device will break," Hermione shut her eyes resignedly, but he continued, "however, do not ever give up hope. Often, time has a way of changing things…in ways that one never expects."

A spark flickered to life within Hermione, and she desperately clung onto it. She was ready. A gleam twinkled in Dumbledore's eye before he spoke again.

"Now Miss Granger, although one twist would take you back far enough to accomplish your mission, for what I have in mind, two turns should do the trick. You remember what I told you in regards to your items?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes Professor."

"Very well then. Until we see each other again Miss Granger." A small bow of his head, two twists of her fingers, and Hermione vanished before the professors' eyes.

McGonagall sniffed but looked at Dumbledore questioningly. "Two turns Albus? Do you really think that wise?"

He softly smiled. "No one should have to do such a task alone, and for what I have in mind…well, I would say that the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them, wouldn't you Minerva?"

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 **A/N: What did you think? Any questions or concerns? Let me know in the reviews, they are so appreciated!**


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